The Beast Player

by Nahoko Uehashi

  While Shunan was gazing up at the moon in the palace garden, Ialu was lurking in a back alley in the capital. Ever since the attempted assassination on the Yojeh’s birthday four years earlier, he had been following a hunch. No one knew the true nature of the Sai Gamulu. Had the assassin really been a member, or was someone using its existence as a cover for their own assassination plot? If his suspicion proved to be right, it would mean that someone was trying to kill the Yojeh for a very different reason than the Sai Gamulu.

  He tensed as he felt someone approaching. A dark figure emerged far down the street and moved toward him. As soon as he saw the outline of the person’s face by the faint light of the moon, the tension drained from him. It was one of his trusted men who was helping with the investigation. The man bowed slightly.

  “How did it go? Did you find anything?”

  He nodded. “It may not be directly related to the same incident, but I uncovered something disturbing as I was checking up on the merchants he deals with.”

  The demand for wild Toda eggs had risen dramatically over the last few years due to frequent skirmishes with the horse riders of Lahza, and many men had begun collecting the lucrative eggs, despite the risks involved. Most people in this trade were Wajak, not only because Toda were considered unclean, but also because they were bought by the Aluhan. Recently, however, some Holon had become involved. Wild Toda lived in the remote mountain rivers and swamps of Yojeh territory as well, so it was no surprise that people would be drawn by the promise of high profits. But to sell the eggs, they needed a connection with the Toda traders of Aluhan territory. According to Ialu’s subordinate, one merchant who served as a middleman had dealings with the person he suspected.

  “Toda…” Ialu whispered. The man in question ought to have no relation to Toda at all. If he were indeed trying to gather fighting serpents, then Ialu could perceive a dreadful possibility. “Thank you. You did well. I’m impressed that you were able to find out that much in such a short time. Please keep your eye on that merchant. See if he is not only selling eggs but is involved in raising them somewhere as well.”

  *

  Whenever her maidservant Nami brought some of her mother’s baking, Seimiya’s heart beat faster, as if she had just run a race. As the official taster who protected the Yojeh’s only granddaughter from poisoning, Nami was highly trusted, and no one thought of inspecting the food she brought. But once, a letter had been hidden within one of her baked goods.

  When she had given it to Seimiya, Nami had been prepared to die. She had waited until they were alone and then, her face deathly pale, she had presented it to Seimiya and told her that during her holiday the Aluhan’s eldest son had come to her alone one night. With a grave expression, he had told her his vision of how the Yojeh could be saved from assassination and the nation spared from division.

  With trembling lips, she had said, “Lord Shunan told me that he intended to kill me if I objected. But although I am not wise, I think his idea is the best way to save the Yojeh. I know that if others heard what he suggested, they would be furious. But for me, the only thing that matters is your life and the life of the Yojeh.” A light had kindled in her eyes as she gazed at Seimiya. “You have the Se Zan to protect you, but in the end they are only human. There is no guarantee that they will be able to stop every assassin that comes. I… I am afraid. I’m afraid that one day, both of you…”

  Seimiya, her face bloodless, had grasped the girl’s trembling arms. “That’s enough, Nami. I understand. …But the road he proposes is unthinkable. He must know that. So why did he even suggest it?”

  The blood that ran in her veins was not that of ordinary people. It was sacred, inherited in a direct and unbroken line from her ancestor, who had been born in the land of the gods far beyond the Afon Noah. It was this that made the Yojeh the soul of the nation. The most important duty of a woman born to that line was to protect its sacredness. That was why they often married an uncle or a cousin. If the women in the Yojeh’s line married men without that ancestry, even members of the nobility, the sacredness of that blood would be watered down.

  She could not help being attracted to Shunan. If only I had been born a noblewoman instead… What joy she would have felt to receive this letter had that been the case. She had bitten her lip at this thought. She hated to give in to self-pity, no matter how small.

  Looking sternly at Nami, she had said, “I understand why you did this. But you must never again bring me such a letter. Were anyone to find out, it would indeed divide this country, so make sure that you never mention it to anyone.”

  “Yes, my Lady,” Nami had replied anxiously.

  In the four years since that time, there had never been another letter, but whenever Nami brought her mother’s baking, Seimiya could not help but remember Shunan’s proposal.

  *

  Nami was just pouring tea into a fine china cup when she heard the voice of a young Se Zan outside the door.

  “Lord Damiya is here. Shall I let him in?”

  Seimiya raised her head and nodded. Nami opened the door, and Damiya walked in bearing a large box. He must have just returned from outside, for he was cloaked with the smell of wind—a scent that raised Seimiya’s spirits. Whenever she saw her uncle, he reminded her of a fresh breeze blowing through a stuffy room—bright and bracing, but with a hint of danger, as if he might carry her off to some forbidden place.

  “My dear Seimiya, how are you today?” He smiled and made to place the box on the table. Nami hastily pushed the tea and sweets to one side, and he nodded to her before gently putting it down.

  “What have you brought me, Uncle? Knowing you, it’s bound to be something strange.”

  Damiya looked at her in mock offense. “Strange? Now when have I ever given you something strange? Here, take a look.” He lifted the lid and gestured toward the box.

  Seimiya gasped. Inside lay a perfect replica of the palace, along with the gardens and the forest surrounding it. Surely this must be what it would look like from the sky. The model was so exquisite, she could hardly believe it was manmade, but she gave him a playful glare. “Dear uncle, you’re still bringing me toys, as if I were a mere child.”

  Damiya reached out a hand and caressed her cheek. His touch was so gentle, it was as if a wing had brushed her face.

  “If I thought you were a child, I certainly wouldn’t bring you something like this. Only a grown woman could appreciate such fine craftsmanship. You know perfectly well how much talent has gone into this, don’t you?”

  Seimiya cast down her eyes, her heart beating quickly. She strove to keep her voice calm so that he would not know how his touch had unsettled her. “Of course, I do.”

  He took her hand gently in his and placed her fingers on the tips of the wooden trees. They tickled like the hairs on a calligraphy brush, and she tensed.

  “It’s amazing, don’t you think? See how soft they are. If the gods reached out to touch the trees in the forest, I bet they’d feel just like this.”

  Seimiya endured the tickling in her fingertips as she listened to his voice.

  Four years had passed since the autumn Elin had first arrived at Kazalumu School. Every fall, the trees hedging the highlands turned bright gold in a blaze of color against the distant snow-topped ridges of the Onolu Mountains. The sight always took her breath away. But autumn did not linger in the highlands. It sped away, followed by the cruel winter.

  The snow-laden wind that blew from the northwest collided against the mountains, dumping heavy snow on the north face. Fortunately, this meant that not much snow fell on the highlands, which were on the southeast side. But the chill of the wind, freed from its burden and whistling lightly down from the mountains, penetrated to the bone.

  By the winter solstice, snow fell even in Kazalumu, fluttering down to cover the meadow, the stables and the school in a thin white blanket. While Royal Beasts did not like rain or thunder, they were impervious to the cold. Regardless of whether the meadow was co
vered in snow, as long as it was sunny, they went outside, their breath frosting the air.

  Leelan had matured into a full-fledged, well-proportioned Royal Beast. But what everyone admired most was her fur. Tomura, who was now an apprentice teacher, was fond of remarking to his colleagues that even the coats on the Beasts at the Lazalu Sanctuary could not compare in beauty with hers. He need not have bothered, as they were already staunch admirers.

  One day, Esalu stood watching Elin with Leelan. She remembered Elin telling her that the fur of wild Beasts seemed to change color depending on the light. True to those words, Leelan’s fur shone golden at sunset and silver in the morning. But what caused this difference? Several things came to mind, but two of these seemed particularly significant. Since Elin had begun to care for her, Leelan had never been immobilized by the Silent Whistle, even though it was used regularly on the other Beasts, nor had she drunk any tokujisui.

  If those are the differences that cause her fur to shine like that… why on earth would the Canon dictate that we care for Beasts in a way that dulls their fur? For many years, Esalu had wondered if there wasn’t some hidden purpose behind the Royal Beast Canon. I wonder if the warning which that man gave me has something to do with this.

  Once, long ago, while searching for Royal Beasts deep in the mountains, she had met a tall stranger, an incident which she had never mentioned to anyone. When she had first learnt that Elin had seen Beasts in the wild, she had feared that she might have some connection with him. Having observed her for the last four years, however, she had discarded that suspicion and was now convinced that, just as Joeun had said, Elin knew nothing of the vows the Ahlyo kept, even though she was of Ahlyo blood. If she had been bound by those vows, she would never have deviated from the Canon.

  The encounter remained clear in her memory—the tall man’s cold green eyes and his robe that was as gray as the mist, the dim light among the trees that had surrounded them, the smell of damp moss.

  When he had learnt that she was a teacher at the Royal Beast Sanctuary, he had warned her, “You must stop looking for Beasts in the wild. From the moment a Beast falls into the hands of men, it is bound by Aoh, the Law. Without Aoh, Beasts are dangerous. You, and those like you, whose duty is to bind them to the Law, must not see them in the wild.”

  When Esalu had asked him why, he had answered coldly. “You are an intelligent and enthusiastic scholar who raises the Yojeh’s Beasts. To see them in the wild would kindle a flame in your heart that could trigger the most fearsome calamity. I’m sure you find that hard to believe, but I know what you do not. I beg of you, please heed my warning. Do you wish to cause a disaster for which you would never forgive yourself?”

  She had not wanted to bow to an Ahlyo prophesy that made no sense, but the cold fear that had gripped her was still firmly rooted in her mind. She had felt as though the Ahlyo were always watching her, and so had not gone hunting wild Beasts again.

  What could be so dangerous about seeing Royal Beasts in the wild, she had wondered. What was the Law meant to protect, and how was that connected to the Beasts? It had made her angry to think that those who dedicated their lives to caring for the Royal Beasts were not allowed to know. The idea that people would keep others ignorant in order to protect something was abhorrent. Sound judgment could only be made once one knew all the facts. To conceal them would prevent people from making an informed decision.

  Who is trying to keep us ignorant? She did not think that the wandering Ahlyo had that kind of power. And besides, the Canon was supposed to have been written by the first Yojeh. Could it be the Yojehs?

  For years, she had had no way of finding out, but then Elin had come along. In her naivety and ignorance of the Law and the Canon, she had burst through the rules with ease. At times, the sight of her with Leelan filled Esalu with foreboding. Will something terrible happen if we continue raising Leelan like a Beast in the wild? Leelan already stood out from the other Beasts in the sanctuary. If she continued to mature like this would it cause some disaster? The Ahlyo had tried to stop Esalu from even seeing wild Beasts. What had he feared?

  Esalu was aware that part of her wanted to learn what that danger was, and that this was one reason she had given Elin free rein. At the same time, however, she was afraid to put Elin at risk just to satisfy her own curiosity. Perhaps she should tell her everything. Even if she did, Elin was unlikely to change how she cared for Leelan because of what the Ahlyo had said. After all, this was the girl who had written her will so that she could stay with Leelan. Still, she could not bring herself to reveal to Elin that it was the Ahlyo’s warning she had feared all these years.

  Leelan spread her wings, and Elin’s slender figure seemed suddenly even smaller. Esalu stood and stared for a long time at the girl as she reached up, without the least trace of fear, to stroke the Beast’s chest.

  2 FLIGHT

  When the New Year’s break came and Kazalumu was once again deserted, Elin breathed a sigh of relief. During the last four years, a disturbing idea had been germinating in her mind. Most people would probably have dismissed it as nonsense; but those who did not might be alarmed. She did not even feel comfortable sharing it with Yuyan.

  As Elin had come to know Leelan better, there were times when the Beast’s intelligence amazed her. In certain ways, Royal Beasts were very like humans. She did her best to prevent others from noticing these things, but by spring of her first year, Leelan could understand almost everything Elin said. She had not only mastered the “words” that Elin had created from variations of lon, the Beasts’ harp-like cry, but she also used them to convey what she wanted.

  The first “sentence” she had communicated had been very simple—“back”, “itchy”, “scratch”. Elin, however, had been stunned. What she had just heard seemed impossible. She had taught Leelan sounds for different parts of the body, such as back, head, shoulder and feet. She had also taught her sounds for “hurt” and “itchy”, and for “touch” and “scratch”. But she had never shown her how to put those sounds together to make a sentence. Instead of merely mimicking Elin, she had combined sounds on her own to convey where she itched and what she wanted done about it.

  Elin knew that dogs and horses could understand some words and convey what they wanted to some extent, but only through sounds they already used, such as barks or whinnies, along with body movements and facial expressions. They did not use a “language” composed of arbitrarily combined sounds. Leelan, however, not only used the “words” that she had been taught, but had figured out how to combine these to convey a complex wish. She had grasped the sounds and the semantic rules that Elin had created and had used them to produce “language”. In no time at all, the two were communicating quite naturally—Elin speaking to Leelan in human speech, and Leelan responding with harp-like cries…

  There were times when Elin felt that she had opened a forbidden door. Honeybees built hives, marvelous structures that humans could never hope to imitate. In the same way, all wild creatures used innate yet astounding capacities to build the environment in which they lived. But she could not help thinking that what Leelan had done surpassed the bounds of “nature”.

  Or could it be that Royal Beasts in the wild also modulated their cries to make conversation? If so, then they were much closer to humans in their thought processes than anyone had believed. And if that were the case, then why had no one ever had a conversation with one, despite the fact that Beasts had been raised in captivity for several centuries?

  This point struck Elin as very unnatural. When she had first noticed Leelan’s ability, she had reread the Royal Beast Canon. The first Yojeh must have known what Royal Beasts could do when she had written these rules, and it was then that the idea came to her: Did she deliberately design the Canon so that no one would ever communicate with the Beasts? Elin’s heart had grown cold at the thought. If that was her intention, then I may be making a terrible mistake…

  She did not know why it would be taboo for people to
speak with Royal Beasts. But if the hidden purpose of the Canon was to prevent this, what would happen if the Yojeh or those around her discovered what she was doing? What if not just Elin but Esalu and everyone else at the school got into trouble? This was her greatest fear, and the reason she was so careful to conceal the fact that she and Leelan could communicate.

  When anyone else was around, she hardly spoke to Leelan at all. The harp was a bit safer because no one else could understand, but even then she tried to use it when no one was there, limiting any conversations with Leelan to times when they were far from the school, such as when they were in the shadow of the forest or at the river. She had to be discreet, however, because people like Losa might get nosy if she seemed to be keeping Leelan out of the way.

  For this reason, she felt a tremendous load lift from her shoulders whenever there was a holiday.

  Leelan wanted to go out every day. “I’m not like you. For me, snow is cold,” Elin grumbled, but Leelan ignored her. She hopped lightly on her hind feet, moving with ease across the snowy fields. Her favorite spot was the ravine through which the river flowed. She could spend most of the day perched on a crag just listening to the water murmuring.

  But the cold bit through Elin’s leather boots and furlined coat, freezing her to the bone, and her feet sank in the powdery snow, making it a struggle just to walk. She had to stop frequently and stretch the kinks out of her back. Leelan could have raced ahead, but she always stopped, waiting patiently like a mother for her child. This made Elin wonder when Royal Beasts normally left the nest.